


Nightwing Meets the New Kid

by bluestalking, feverbeats



Series: Jason Red Robin Hood & His Friends The Rogues [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 22:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/pseuds/bluestalking, https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: "Jesus Christ," Dick says, and then he says the only other thing he can to think of as an alternative to fleeing, which is, "Do you know who I am, punk?"Dick meets Jason, rescues some people, and has several mixed feelings.





	Nightwing Meets the New Kid

i.

Dick hates coming to Gotham. He doesn't have a lot of reason to, now, but sometimes the people he's tracking don't stay in Blüdhaven, or sometimes there's a lead he has to follow up on. Most often, though, it's because Gotham's library is way, way better. He just tries to forget whose donations it's funded with.

He tells himself he's just going to the library, but the rumors about Robin being seen in Gotham again have only gotten more frequent. He just wants to check.

Going to the manor is obviously out of the question, and he's not about to ask Babs, so he does the least creepy things he can think of and goes for a bike ride _past_ the manor. After school hours. Just in case.

The place is what he remembers, and seeing it is like being slammed with an abrupt haunting. In the past, though, the closed gates weren’t intimidating—they marked off a private world that was completely different from how he grew up first, one that for awhile he belonged to, and belonged to him.

It’s someone else’s now.

There isn’t any sign of life or welcome at this distance, and Dick admits that if he wants something out of this fly by, he’ll have to take a bigger risk and commit slightly more crime.

He stops and leans his bike against the fence, asking himself the whole time what he's doing. It would be easy to flip over the fence. It would be easy to get on the roof. There are cameras, but he knows where they are.

He's not even in costume. This is embarrassing stalker behavior. But he just wants a look around. He does go over the fence, but he decides to just take a quick walk around the grounds. It's not that weird. Just some trespassing.

He’s been walking for a couple minutes when a sudden movement startles him, rushing darkly at him from the side. He immediately goes into a defensive stance, when he realizes it's the dog.

"Ace!" he says. "Oh man--" He's about to reach out to meet him when the thought strikes him that Ace might not remember him. So that's good and not at all upsetting.

Ace hesitates a little way off, nose quivering. But a moment later, he bounds at Dick with a ferocious, joyous bark. Dick flings his arms around him, almost toppling over when Ace rams into him.

"Hey, puppy," he says. "Hey, my good dog." Ace's fur is all warm from the sun. It makes Dick want to cry. Of course, Ace doesn’t walk outside alone, which is worrying—but Dick doesn’t see anyone with him.

"I'm just visiting, boy," Dick tells him. "And Bruce and I will both be sorry if we run into each other." He should go. If Bruce sees him, he won't have a single excuse in the world. He gives Ace a rueful pat on the head. Ace whines and stamps in place. 

"I know," Dick says. He gives him a final pat and launches himself over the fence again. He makes his way back to his bike, feeling so stupid for even coming here. What did he think it was going to do for him? He pushes his bike up the hill. He's going to get to the top and turn around. Just to get the view.

Because he’s looking back at the manor, he doesn’t expect a voice from beside him.

“Reeeeally big, huh?” says someone to his left. “Like big house, big yard, big dog, big gate.”

Dick whips around. It's a kid. Short, dark hair, strong-looking. Gotham accent. He already knows, with a horrible twisted feeling in his gut, what he's looking at. "Uh, yeah," he says. "I guess it's a landmark."

The kid’s eyebrows fly up. “I heard an old crazy guy lives there,” he says.

"You heard right," Dick says, not feeling at all guilty. This kid is nothing like him.

The kid says, “I heard he has a million bucks and keeps real wolves to eat people’s faces.”

"How long have you been following me?" Dick demands. The kid almost certainly saw him hop the wall.

“I’m not following you, I just saw you. Thought I’d say hi cuz you’re hot.”

"Jesus Christ," Dick says, and then he says the only other thing he can to think of as an alternative to fleeing, which is, "Do you know who I am, punk?"

The kid says, drawn out, “I heard he kidnaps little boooooys.”

"Enough!" Dick says. "You win, okay?" Understatement of the year. "What's your name?"

The kid wrinkles his nose. “What, you can’t read a tabloid? Buzzfeed? The local paper? Maybe you hit the paywall reading about sports.” He says this as if it’s the funniest thing imaginable.

Dick grits his teeth. He was never _mean_. "I don't read Gotham news." Explicitly to avoid you, he doesn't add.

“Me either,” says the kid. “So. Richard. Whatcha doing here?”

"So you read the tabloids," Dick says unhappily. "I was just in the city on business." Breaking into his childhood home.

“Here?” the kid says, pointing at the manor.

Dick blushes. "I just wanted to say hi to Ace." What has Bruce told this kid about him?

“Good dog,” agrees the kid, eyeing him. “I guess you didn’t get to keep much in the divorce.”

Dick feels light-headed with some combination of rage and horror. "Why don't you stick to topics you understand?" he asks.

“You’re trespassing, not me,” says the kid. He sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets and looks up at Dick. It’s hard to know what he wants. 

Dick sighs. He's not going to get into it with a teenager. "Look," he says, "I didn't come here to fight. Want to...take a walk or something?"

The kid glances back at the house and says, “N-nah. No thanks. I should get back.” For a second his unreadable punkass expression dips into something else, but not for long enough that Dick can really pin it down.

"Okay," Dick says, seized by sudden worry. How _is_ Bruce? Is he taking care of the kid? "Well, here's my number, if you want to hang out sometime. You know, with the only other person who gets it." He hands the kid a makeshift business card, one with the number for his "work" cell.

The kid takes it and studies it briefly. “It’s cool to meet you,” he says, sudden and improbable. “Maybe I’ll call you. You know, in my free time.” He waves goodbye and starts skidding back down the hill. Halfway he stops and says, “Oh yeah, my name is Jason. I won’t tell Bruce!”

What the hell? So, does Jason hate him, or not? Is he just unbelievably obvious? Dick isn't a good enough detective to find those answers, apparently.

He wasn't planning on spending more than a day in Gotham, but maybe he'll get a hotel room and just hang around a little. Maybe if he's lucky, Jason will even bring Ace out to see him. Probably all of that is wishful thinking, and Jason is about to tell Bruce everything. It’s out of Dick’s hands, either way. Jason scales the wall in the same muscular way that he seems to do everything, and disappears. 

ii. 

After two days loitering around Gotham, Dick gives up and goes home, feeling stupid. He catches a couple of criminals, goes to the academy during the day, and mostly tries to forget about Jason. It works about as well as usual.

He’s sitting down for dinner (which is cold cereal, with milk that’s about one day off from being expired) when someone rings his doorbell.

He carefully picks up one of his escrima sticks and puts it behind his back. Nobody ever visits him here. He opens the door just enough to see who it is.

“Right apartment,” says Jason. “Nice.”

Dick takes a few quick steps back, mostly out of shock. " _Jason?_ How did you even find me?" He doesn't put the weapon down yet. Just in case.

“It was kind of hard,” says Jason. He steps through the door and shuts it behind him like he’s actually been invited. “I don’t know anyone in Blüdhaven, so I had to ask around Gotham instead. Obviously that’s not my first choice.”

"You know I gave you my number, right?" Dick says. He feels so defensive around this kid, but also, when he's up close, he can see that Jason _is_ a kid. Dick feels like he should be acting more responsible, like some kind of mentor.

“Yeah, I know,” says Jason. “I didn’t want to call you, though, I wanted to see you."

"Oh," Dick says, surprised. "Uh, come in." Jason is already in. "I have a futon. Do you want a Coke?" He's worried all over again.

“Yeah, please,” says Jason. He wanders through the apartment, past the kitchen nook and over to Dick’s futon, which is also his bed. Jason sits down with his hands still in his pockets and says, “Kind of a downgrade, don’t you think?” 

"If you're asking if it was worth it, it was," Dick says lightly, getting a Coke from the fridge. "Here you go." He perches on the other hand of the futon, looking sideways at Jason.

Jason flips the top of the can back and cracks it open. He takes a big slurp, and then says, “You’re nuts.”

Dick doesn't have the words or the inclination to explain the horribly twisted thing that his relationship with Bruce became at the end. They weren't healthy for each other anymore, and Dick was ready to grow up. Jason isn't even close to that.

"Maybe," he says. "So you like it? Living with him?"

“Why wouldn’t I?” says Jason. “Hello? Giant fucking mansion, big fucking dog, and I get to punch people without getting in trouble.”

Those very never really Dick's priorities, and he can't actually imagine Bruce putting up with it. "You don't think he's a little bossy?" he asks, testing.

“Well, sure, but I do what I want,” Jason tells him, taking another gulp of his Coke.

"I doubt it," Dick says. "So, how did he--?" He almost says _find you,_ but that makes Jason sound like a stray. "How did you end up coming to live with him?"

“Oh, I stole his tires,” says Jason.

" _What?_ "

“Off the Batmobile,” Jason says, unaffected. “I stole them. Would’ve been better if he didn’t catch me, but oh well. It works out.”

Okay, so Bruce has clearly lost his mind. Maybe he really is letting this kid do whatever he wants. Maybe his valuable takeaway from Dick was that he should become some sort of crazy hippie who lets people get away with murder.

"So you're a criminal," Dick says. "And that doesn't bug him?"

“Wow, and you’re an asshole,” says Jason. “That clearly did ‘bug’ him.”

"But he adopted you anyway," Dick says. He doesn't know where that came from. He doesn't know that Jason's adopted. Maybe it's just what he's afraid of.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Imagine Bruce with a social worker, explaining the Batcave to Children and Family Services. No one’s adopting anyone.”

"And he clearly lets you out to fight crime," Dick says. It's not "too dangerous" when it's Jason, apparently.

“I’m good at it,” says Jason easily. 

Dick takes a deep breath and tries really hard not to feel wildly jealous. So everything is just fine with Bruce and Jason. Great.

"So why did you track me down?" he asks. "Did you have any questions, or…?"

“Maybe I wanted to hang out,” says Jason. “You’re the only person who gets it, remember? Maybe I’m just seeking peers.”

Dick wants to say they're not exactly peers. "Where does Bruce think you are right now?"

Jason shrugs expansively. “Bruce is at a thing.”

"So you snuck out and came all the way to Blüdhaven? I don't know if I have anything to teach you, kid." Bruce has taken in a literal criminal.

“I’m not here to be mentored,” Jason says, with the gravity of someone who has been mentored before. “I want to know what kind of person leaves.”

Dick doesn't love that tone, but part of him has been waiting for months for a chance to tell the new kid everything that's wrong with Bruce. Now that Jason's actually here, that seems more complicated.

"The kind of person who grew out of being mentored," Dick says. "Anyway, I didn't just...it was mutual." That's both accurate in some ways and a complete warping of the truth.

“It’s a sweet deal,” Jason says. “Even if you didn’t like Bruce.” It’s clear from his tone that he does.

"I just met you, so I'm not going to correct you too much," Dick says. "And I don't know where you came from. Maybe it is sweet, compared to that." What if Bruce got this kid from the circus, too? That's such a horrifying thought that Dick almost laughs. Instead, he gets up to get himself a soda.

“What do you do now?” Jason asks. “I mean, now that you’re not me. Do you have friends? Are you still kicking people’s asses?”

Dick sighs. "Yes and yes. I have friends. They kick people's--they fight crime too." He hesitates. He doesn't want this next part to get back to Bruce. "And I'm working on joining the police force."

“What a boy scout,” says Jason. “Except, wait, they hate fags, right?”

Dick can feel himself turning bright red. What is _wrong_ with this kid? "Who said I'm--that?"

Jason looks completely confused. “I mean I can use a different word if you’re gonna get offended…”

"I'm not gay," Dick says. "I mean, why do you think I'm gay?" He should never have opened that door.

“Bi, fine,” says Jason. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything.”

"Sure," Dick says unhappily. "Anyway, there are lot of things I don't necessarily bring up with the cops. Like the extracurricular crime-fighting."

“Can’t trust cops,” says Jason, and the way he says it shows a lot of comfort with the idea.

"So, was the tire-stealing a one-time thing?" DIck says. "Or do you commit all sorts of crimes?" Maybe Bruce has completely lost his mind. Maybe he's turned evil.

Jason’s expression cools a little. “Oh, sure. I’m Carmine Falcone’s nephew and I murder people just all the time.”

"I'd only be slightly shocked," Dick says. "Relax. I just don't know what Bruce's deal is lately. You said you like it there?" Let's talk about Jason for a minute, Dick thinks. Maybe he'll get his composure back.

“Yeah,” says Jason, a little bullishly. “What’s not to like?”

Dick has a laundry list, but that's not going to help his relationship Jason. "Nothing," he says lightly. "What's your favorite part?"

“Not having to cook dinner,” says Jason. “I _hate_ cooking.”

"Where were you before?" Dick asks, already dreading the answer. Someplace where you'd have to steal tires to make it.

“In Gotham,” Jason says, sounding offended. Then realization hits him. “Oh, with my mom. A lot of the time, anyway.”

Dick nods. "Cool. Uh, I'm sorry."

“Sorry for what?” Jason asks. He takes a gulp from his Coke and adds, “Do you have anything to eat?”

"Plain pasta," Dick says. "Oh, wait--I have some leftover pizza." That was going to be his lunch tomorrow, but Jason probably needs it more. "Look, how did you end up living with Bruce?"

“Pizza’s good,” Jason says. “I can’t really stay with my mom right now, that’s all. I’m not trying to _exploit_ anybody or anything. I just can’t get a place on my own, and anyway, it’s way easier to do the Robin stuff if I live there, right? Anyway, I like Bruce.” He says it with casual intensity.

"I really wasn't worried about _you_ exploiting anyone," Dick says. Hearing Jason say he likes Bruce makes Dick feel a little sick. He used to like Bruce, too. It was really, really nice, living there.

There’s a glint in Jason’s eye. “I know what I want,” he says. “You don’t need to get concerned.”

Dick is not going to do well in the anxious big brother role. He'll get too into it. "Hey, I'm just trying to get to know you. How did you go from stealing tires to being Robin?" Maybe if he just slips the question in casually, he won't sound so pathetic.

“I asked him if there was something wrong with Robin and he didn’t have a Robin, so now I’m Robin,” Jason says elliptically. 

"Oh," Dick says. That's like a tenth of a story. "So...how long?"

“Like seven months?” Jason says. “I guess you haven’t been stalking Bruce as much as I thought.”

"Or at all!" Dick says in a rush. "Sorry, you must think it's so weird that I was there."

“Not that weird,” says Jason. “But I had to make sure.”

"To make sure I wasn't a weirdo, you came to my house alone?" Dick asks. "You're definitely Robin." It doesn't feel great to say.

Jason looks proud. “Not like a weirdo,” he says. “I’m looking out for Bruce, that’s all.”

Dick sighs and puts his drink on the floor. "You thought I'd...what? Stalk him?" Okay, that's not the most off-base of anything Jason could think.

“I don’t know,” Jason says reasonably. “You were inside the wall. You left. People get wacky. You’ve been to Gotham, right?”

"Yeah," Dick says, chagrined. "So you coming out here, that's all about Bruce?" It's clearly not, or at least not entirely, but he's curious to see what Jason says.

“Yeah, well, plus if someone doesn’t want me to know something,” Jason says with a shrug. His smile is not quite charming enough to make him look innocent.

"I don't know if Bruce can handle you," Dick says. He never thought, even an hour ago, that he'd be saying that.

“I don’t need to get handled,” Jason says fiercely. “We’re partners.”

Oh, Dick remembers that. It's so jarring, hearing it from someone else's mouth, that he feels himself go pale, and he forgets to say anything at all.

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings or anything,” Jason says.

"No, I know," Dick says. He sounds weird, his voice sounds weird. "It's just really, really weird. You even look like me." Jason's not built anything like him, but he has the hair. The costume. And more importantly, the job.

Jason kicks the floor with one heel and takes a bite of Dick’s pizza.

Dick smiles despite himself. "You know," he says, "I'm glad you came out."

“Yeah, well,” says Jason, “you’re kind of my origin story, right?”

"Oh," Dick says. "That's...a really sweet way to put it." As far as he knew, Jason didn't give a shit about what came before.

“Yeah, plus I needed to know you weren’t going to do something stupid.” He gets up abruptly. “Hey, I kind of need to go, I gotta catch a train before uh, things.”

"Do you need a ride?" Dick asks. Because Jason is a tiny child. And Dick has left this brief interaction feeling horribly responsible for him.

Jason looks at him like a kind of trap—him, then the window, then the clock on Dick’s wall.

“Can you really drive me?” he asks.

"I'd like to," Dick says. "If that's cool." Oh man, this is awful. Jason is a kid and he's going to get hurt and he's going to have to deal with Bruce all by himself--

“Thanks,” Jason says. He stuffs about half the piece of pizza in his mouth and stands up, snagging his coke on the way. “Ahfeh aw wahwah gohh ill ee.”

“What--” Dick says. “Swallow. Swallow first.” He makes sure to say it fast, while Jason’s mouth is still full and he can’t make a joke. He grabs his keys and herds Jason out the door.

Jason swallows, smirks, and says, “Alfred’s already gonna kill me.”

“ _Already_ ,” Dick says. “That was the word I didn’t get. Well, I’m sure you can smooth-talk your way out of it.” Thinking about Alfred taking care of someone else hurts as much as the Bruce thing. Almost.

Dick brings Jason down to where his bike is parked. “I don’t have a spare helmet,” he says, “so you can take mine.”

“That sounds super safe,” Jason says. “What do you do when your boyfriend rides with you?”

Dick takes a deep breath and makes himself answer with a straight face and no screaming. “I usually ride by myself.” Don’t rise to the bait, he tells himself. Be the adult. “Hold on tight, okay?”

Jason puts on the helmet, then climbs on behind him and his arms wrap around Dick’s middle, no jokes and no fuss. 

Dick guns the engine and drives them to the train station. By the time they get there, his face is freezing and his hair is a mess. Very glamorous. He hops off the bike.

“You okay, Jason?”

Jason is looking around like he’s unpleasantly surprised by something, but he doesn’t say anything to give away what he’s thinking. 

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Thanks for the ride. And dinner. I really like your bike.”

“Well, if you want to hang out again, we can go for a ride sometime,” Dick says. Surprisingly, he means it. “Just, you know, call next time.”

“Yeah,” says Jason. “Okay. Thanks. See ya, Dick.” He gives a little wave and disappears into the train station, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

iii. 

A week goes by where Dick barely thinks about Jason. He’s doing Titans stuff, and he’s doing cop stuff, and it isn’t until he’s in the middle of grocery shopping that it sudden hits him that he hasn’t heard from Jason at all. That’s probably fine and normal, but it bugs him, and by the time he gets home, he’s convinced himself that he should call and check in.

Of course, there’s not a chance in hell that he’s going to call the manor. The only other option is only slightly less terrible, but by this point he’s worked himself into being really worried.

So he calls Barbara.

She answers, which is the first hurdle cleared, but then says, “Dick?” in a voice that tells him she’s prepared to be unhappy if the answer is yes.

“Don’t hang up,” Dick says. “It’s a work thing.” Which, a) is a lie and b) is not necessarily a reason for her to talk to him. They don’t work together anymore, after all.

“Right,” she says smoothly. She always seems colder lately and he never knows how to parcel out the reasons why. “What work thing can I help you with, Dick? I don’t do Blüdhaven.”

“Actually,” he says, “It’s about Jason.”

There’s a biting silence, and then Barbara says, “Don’t get involved, Dick, for god’s sake.”

Dick doesn’t know how to do this without breaking Jason’s trust. If he tells her that Jason came to Blüdhaven, she’ll tell Bruce, and it’ll get all screwed up.

“Babs, come on,” he says. “I just need to know if he’s okay.”

“Why?” she says. “Do you have some reason to think that he’s not? Dick, you shouldn’t even know his name. What are you doing?” 

This is exactly what Dick was afraid of, and he absolutely brought it on himself. "I ran into him," he says. It's not even a believable lie.

“Okay,” says Barbara with the kind of chill that should have told him they were going to break up.

"He came to see me," Dick says. Not a lie. "And I haven't heard from him in a while. So I was just…"

“You’ve been seeing each other a lot?” Barbara asks, but before he can answer she says, “You’re not going to gain anything from interfering, you know that, right?”

"I swear to god, I'm not trying to do anything," Dick says. "I just want to know if he's okay. And since when are you Bruce's best friend? Are you really okay with him taking on this new kid?"

Barbara grumbles something that Dick can’t catch.

"What?" Dick says. "What, what did I do wrong now?" Is this actually better than calling Bruce?

“Not you,” Barbara says meaningfully. “Listen, Dick, I know you, you’re a soft heart, and if you get mixed up with Jason and Bruce you’re going to get thrashed. He’s not like you, and you and Bruce...you know.”

"I know," Dick says, wounded before he can even figure out why. "But he came to see me, Barbara, and I can't just ignore that."

“Why did he?” Barbara asks. 

"I'm not totally sure," Dick says. "Which is one of the reasons I wanted to follow up. And okay, to be fair, I found him first. But he didn't have to chase me down later."

Barbara audibly sighs. “He’s fine, as far as I know. But don’t get attached, I mean it. You’ll get yourself hurt.” She keeps saying that, but not how or why.

"You're talking like he's about to die," Dick says. It's not what he means to say, and he immediately feels horrible. But really, if Bruce thought it was too dangerous for Dick to be Robin, what's the deal with Jason?

She hesitates. “I think he’s going to get _someone_ killed,” she says. “I don’t know who yet.”

"What does that mean?" Dick demands. Jason was so hard to read.

“He’s reckless,” she says. “And I think he’s rougher than Bruce likes. In a fight. Also I’m pretty sure he’s run off to play with the bad guys at least once. Anyway Bruce kept intimating.”

Dick is quiet for a second. What the hell? That doesn't sound like the Bruce he knows. "And he puts up with that?" he asks finally.

“Literally nothing I can say to that is going to make you happy,” she says. “So far, yes.”

Dick grips his phone so hard that his hand hurts. "So all that stuff he said to me when I left, all that stuff he said for _years_ , that didn't mean anything."

“I told you you’d be hurt,” she says, and to her credit, she sounds sorry. “He came and made things better. Bruce knows he lost his chance with you. He took a chance on Jay and I think he’s scared to fail twice.”

"If I wanted excuses for him, I would have called him," Dick says through clenched teeth. Mostly, it just hurts. Bruce is the one who gave up.

“He wouldn’t tell you that, I’m telling you that,” Babs says. “He’d feed you bullshit and tell you Jason is perfect.”

"And what are you telling me Jason is?"

“I don’t know,” she says. “A kid who’s had to be tough for a long time?”

Dick tries to untangle his thoughts. He can't, but he knows what he feels. "I just wanted to know if he's okay," he says. "If you don't have anything for me, I'll go."

Barbara makes a noise of disapproval. “Like I called you up to make you miserable,” she says. “I don’t even know what you wanted me to say. Do _you?_ ”

"No," Dick says, feeling stupid. "I guess I called you because I couldn't call Bruce. And, you know. I haven't called you in a while." There are certain things he's going to just have to accept about leaving Gotham, and losing Barbara as a friend is probably one of them.

“Yeah, I know,” Barbara says. “Take care, Dick.”

"You too." He hangs up, feeling totally defeated. Okay. He doesn't have any choice but to put all of it out of his head. Maybe Barbara is right and Jason is a mess he doesn't want to get involved with. Dick has a job--really more than one--and he can't spend all his spare time worrying about a problem he invented.

He puts the number for the manor back in his phone, just in case he's wrong.

iv.

It's another three weeks before Dick hears anything. He's just getting home from the academy, on top of a long night getting his ass kicked on rooftops, and he almost doesn't answer his phone when the unknown number pops up. It's his work phone, and there's no way Nightwing is officially on the clock for another few hours.

But if it's that phone, it's important. Dick picks up. "Yeah?"

“Hey, so,” says a very casual voice, “it’s me, Robin. You’re not free right now, are you?”

"Oh," Dick says. "No, yeah, totally." He's so tired he keeps tearing up, and he was really looking forward to a nap, but what if this is important?

“Great,” says Jason. “Do you know where the Zandrich Building is, in the Bowery? You know, was nice in 1935 and now it’s basically rats on crack?”

"I know where it is," Dick says. Like Jason was alive in 1935. "Why?"

“Nothing I can’t handle, probably,” Jason says. “I mean, no, I definitely need your help. Please, Nightwing, please, you’re my only hope. I’m not joking, though.”

Dick blinks at his watch, feeling stupid and heavy. "Why aren't you in school?"

“School gets out like an hour ago,” says Jason. “Anyway there was a half day. Come on, Batman’s busy, do you want me to get killed up here?”

"Wait, now?" Dick says, head spinning. "You want me to come now? It's light out." How fast can he get to the Bowery, if he takes his bike and stashes it somewhere?

“Yeah, I know it’s light out, genius,” says Jason. “Now is when the problem is.”

Well, this is what Dick wanted. For Jason to have some kind of safety net, exactly what Dick didn't have. He's already shoving his costume in his bag and heading right back out. "Promise you'll wait for me," he says.

“That would be ideal,” Jason says. “I’ll have to go in if I hear any screaming, though, okay? Just warning you.”

"Jason!" Dick shouts. He pelts down the stairs, calculating how much he's going to have to speed. "Don't do anything stupid!"

“Robin,” Jason shoots back. “See you soon!”

He hangs up.

Dick drives twenty miles over the speed limit the whole way. He stashes his bike as close by as he dares and changes quickly in an alley. It's not perfect, but his heart is beating out of his chest. Maybe some unresolved trauma there.

When he's within sight of the Zandrich Building, he calls Jason back.

“Fantastic,” Jason answers. “It’s a hostage situation. Someone is trapped inside with a bunch of Joker knockoffs. Don’t worry, not the real thing. As far as I can tell they’re just a bunch of really mean kids.”

Dick hates hostage situations. He's pretty sure everybody does. Worse, he's pretty sure Bruce will kill either of them if they go near anything that even smells like the Joker. "That's good," he says. "Listen, I can probably handle it." Worth a try.

“Uh, I think I’d better go with you,” says Jason. “Can you hang up and get over here? We’re on the south side of the building.”

Dick hangs up. It's not until after he does that his brain registers "we." He breaks into a run.

When he gets there, Jason is easy to spot, with his bright colors. It's the first time Dick has seen him in the uniform, and it's jarring. He doesn't have time to think about that, though, because Jason isn't alone. There's a man standing next to him, looking concerned. The man is really stupidly beautiful.

"Hey," Dick says, out of breath. "Are you family?" He waves an arm, indicating the general hostage situation.

The beautiful man gives him a once over and says to Jason, “I really don’t know about this. I suppose he’s a professional, but isn’t that the problem?”

"Robin, you ready?" Dick asks, tuning the guy out.

“Yeah,” says Jason. He gives a little nod to the beautiful guy and says, “Hey, I won’t let anything happen.” He makes a fist, and the man laughs. Jason relaxes. “Okay, let’s go,” he says.

Something is off, here, but Dick is so keyed up and exhausted that he can't think it through. "Any idea how many hostages and how many hostiles?" he asks.

“One hostage,” the man puts in somberly.

“And maybe ten guys and...gals? What kind of word is that,” Jason mutters to himself.

Dick nods. Fewer hostages is definitely better. "Okay. So here's the plan. You get the hostage out of then, then come back and help me take them out. He whips out his escrima sticks. "Ready?"

Jason laughs. “For awhile, yeah.” He starts moving before Dick does. He’s built like a little brick house, but he’s fast.

DIck follows him, but all he can think is that Bruce is going to be furious with him. He shouldn't be here. Neither of them should.

“I think they’re mostly on the third floor, but they’ve probably got people down here,” Jason whispers.

Dick nods and moves toward the stairs. He's been here before, once, so he knows where everything is. Sure enough, there are two clown makeup guys guarding the stairs. He only sees one gun between them.

"I've got this," he mouths to Jason.

Jason says, “Okay, daddy. I’ll just stay here where it’s nice and safe.” 

Dick gives him a horrified look and just hopes he means it about staying put. He launches himself into view and straight at the shoulder of the one with the gun. He goes down easy with a couple of strikes, but the other one turns out to have a knife.

While he’s grappling with that, a flurry of movement passes him—Jason, vaulting up the stairs. Elevators exist but Dick doesn’t have the opportunity to say so.

Dick can't shout without alerting whoever's upstairs. He slams knife guy against the wall, kicks the gun into the hallway, and runs after Jason.

“Jon thinks they’re on the third floor in one of the old meeting rooms,” says Jason. “Not that he’s always an expert in things.”

"You never said if he knows the hostage," Dick says. He isn't doing this by the book, but he's so tired, and Jason is so unstoppable. And fearless. Dick remembers being fearless. 

“Uh, yeah, they know each other,” Jason says.

"Okay," Dick says. "Well, this is the third floor. Going to follow directions?"

“You’re my boss?” Jason mimics. “How about we just punch some people and then rescue somebody and not worry so much.”

Dick is exhausted and clearly Bruce thinks Jason is pretty good, or he wouldn't let him be Robin. And Dick isn't going to be able to take out that many people alone when he's this off his game.

"Okay," he says. "Let's do this."

They burst into the room and find—Dick counts—eight hostiles, and one scrawny, banged up guy tied to a support pillar in the middle of the room. Before he can assess that situation very closely, Jason flies in from his right and knocks a guy down with one punch.

The others react.

For the next few minutes, all Dick can think about is keeping Jason alive. He's doing fine, but he's not careful. He doesn't watch his back. Dick gets a black eye from a woman's cosh while trying to watch it for him.

They do win, mostly because Jason seems to have no compunctions about breaking jaws and fingers. Dick keeps looking around and counting, making sure they're really down.

"Are you okay?" he asks Jason.

“Christ,” says Jason. He surveys the room and then jogs over to the prisoner.

"Oh my god," the prisoner says. "Okay, at this point I really, really owe you. God. But did you have to bring him, though?" He stumbles against Jason when he's untied.

"Wait a minute," Dick says.

“Ten guys,” says Jason. “Sorry it took so long. Uh, Jon’s outside.”

"That," Dick says, "is the Riddler."

"Oh," says the Riddler. "Can we go see him?"

"Robin!" Dick snaps. "Tell me you didn't know!" He should probably chew Jason out in private, but he's apparently becoming Bruce now.

“No shit it’s the Riddler,” says Jason. “Who do you think told me they were in trouble?”

"I don't know," Dick says, derailed.

Wait, Jon, Jon...no way. No way is that beautiful, well-dressed man a bag-wearing lunatic. "Shit," he says.

"Oh, wow, you never used to swear when you were Robin," the Riddler says.

Jason laughs. “I’m rubbing off on him,” he says. “Come on, before I have to knock these assholes out twice.”

The Riddler takes a few steps, stumbles, and curses. "Sorry, they really knocked me around."

"We're not helping him," Dick says, in the face of all the evidence. That conversation with Barbara is making a lot more sense now.

“Don’t be a douche,” Jason says, tucking himself under the Riddler’s skinny arm. “Come on, Eddie.” They start making their way to the elevator (now elevator!) without any sign of remorse.

In the elevator, Dick is stonily silent, mostly because he's too confused and annoyed and tired to figure out how to explain to Jason that he's just the worst.

"I knew Jon would get help," the Riddler says, when the elevator stops.

"The Scarecrow," Dick says, emerging from his haze.

“Yeah, Jon,” says Jason. “It’s pretty simple?”

"Normally I arrest them," Dick says.

"Normally you drag us off to Arkham," the Riddler says lightly.

The elevator door opens and Jason and the Riddler shuffle out. When they reach the outside, the beautiful man _who is the Scarecrow_ gets hit with a look of relief and rage mixed together. 

“Eddie,” he says, “you’re alive,” and darts forward to take him away from Jason. 

The Riddler buries his face in the Scarecrow's neck and says, muffled, "Just a little bruised up. It was probably my turn."

"Robin," Dick whispers fiercely.

The Scarecrow seems to still be ignoring Dick completely. “Thank you, Robin,” he says. “You know I don’t care for being helpless, and my methods are not always appropriate. Efficacious.” His voice shakes with a barely restrained emotion, which Dick is inclined to consider dangerous. 

“I know,” says Jason. “Can you guys get home on your own?”

"I'll get him home," the Riddler says firmly, which seems backwards. "Don't get grounded. He's not your daddy!"

Jason laughs. “Yeah, I won’t.” Like Dick isn’t even there! “Take care, okay? And call me.”

Jon says, “Thanks, thanks,” And turns them around towards whatever their escape route is.

“We should probably go,” says Jason.

"Oh, we're going," Dick says furiously. He stalks back toward his bike, sweeping Jason up in his wake. "Just shut up a minute while I call the cops on those guys back there." And probably on the supervillains, right?

Jason shrugs and crosses his arms.

Dick calls in the ones at building and leaves it at that. By now they're back at the alley where his bike thankfully still is. "Okay," he says, "want to explain?"

“I’m not sure what’s confusing,” says Jason, a little aggressively. 

"Those guys are bad people," Dick says, trying to keep his voice low enough not to attract attention. "Also, criminals. Are you a criminal?"

“What part of tire theft don’t you get?” Jason says. “You know there’s different kinds of ‘bad guys’, right? And people do bad things to them, too!”

"They--The Scarecrow kills people!" Dick says. Probably the Riddler, too, but he can't prove that. "Is that that kind of person you want to spend your time with? Is this some kind of--" He stops, breathing hard. He is not going to be Bruce. He's not.

“I can’t just let Eddie get hurt by a bunch of punks,” Jason says. “We’re kind of like friends! If I caught them doing a crime, I’d stop them, duh.”

"Friends," Dick says. "You're friends with them. Does Batman know?"

“He doesn’t have to know everything,” Jason says. He doesn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously at all. 

"Well, he's going to now!" Dick says furiously.

Jason’s expression drops out of him, from head to foot. “You’re not going to do that,” he says uncertainly. “You don’t even like Batman. You don’t even talk to Batman anymore.”

"Well..." Dick can see himself deflating. He is so, so fucking tired. "This is...Okay. Okay, I wasn't really going to tell him. I'm not that much of a jerk."

“I know how to do my job,” Jason says. “I really fucking do. But it’s bullshit to act like everyone we help is perfect and we should never help anyone who’s kind of fucked up.”

Dick sighs and leans against the wall. This is a bigger and more intense conversation than he's up for right now, and maybe rather than being a little punk, Jason is actually a complex and thoughtful kid. Oof.

"It's not that simple," he says. "I mean, you're right. And that's probably something we don't think about enough. But you also can't just team up with someone like the Scarecrow, no matter who you're saving."

“I’m _from_ Gotham, I _know_ about the Scarecrow,” Jason says.

"So how…" Dick wills himself not to yell. Jason isn't actually doing anything bad, not right this second. "How did you get to this point with him?"

“You know,” Jason shrugs. “Stuff. Listen, man, don’t worry about. I won’t call you again.”

"Wait, hold on," Dick says. "I'd rather you were doing this stuff with me than by yourself. I just...you really didn't give me a heads-up. It's not how Batman operates, but I'm not Batman. I want to understand." In the back of his mind he still can't get over the part where Bruce is going to kill them both.

“Don’t you think we should get out of here before the cops show up?” Jason points out.

"Do you want a ride somewhere?" Dick asks.

“That’s all right,” Jason says. “I’ll catch you around sometime. Thanks for the help.”

It’s a quick dismissal that feels like a failure.

"I'll call you," Dick says. "Sorry."

Jason gives him a hard little smile and a wave, and leaves without further goodbye.

v.

Dick calls Jason a couple of times over the next three weeks, with no luck. He tries not to let that worry him. Maybe Jason is lying low. Dick can't get wrap his head around Jason. He's cocky and full of bravado, but he's sentimental about criminals. He's filling Dick's shoes, but he's too violent and has the wrong friends and he's already way more thoughtful than Dick ever was. Worst of all, Dick can't tell if Jason can handle himself or not.

Dick spends more time in Gotham than usual. He knows that's probably going to come back to bite him eventually, but he can't help if it some of his cases have crossover.

He ends up in Gotham early one night, just after dark, and his case wraps up quickly. Some criminals are just too dumb. That means he should really head home and catch up on sleep, but he hears something over the police scanner that makes him change his mind.

The Scarecrow is being released from Arkham. Against his better judgment, Dick changes course and heads for the Narrows.

Dick finds himself a good vantage point. The gate is visible, he isn’t. Not that there’s a lot of security in that direction, and not that anyone worries much about people breaking into Arkham. 

He’s been there for about twenty minutes (long enough for self doubt) when the gate creaks open. There are a few figures, poorly lit in the doorway. One of them says something abrupt, which he can’t catch, and gives another one a shove. That one is thin, tall, and clutching something in his hands. One of the guards says something else short and blunt, and the gate shuts, between them and the Scarecrow.

Dick could still walk away. Instead, he drops down and makes his way closer to the asylum. He waits, outside the pool of light, for the Scarecrow to get close. When he does, Dick says, "You got into some trouble since last time we saw each other."

The Scarecrow jumps inside his skin, whipping around to find the source of the voice. He’s recognizably the same man from before, but his hair is dirty, his eyes are bright and vicious, and his entire posture has changed. 

“What do you want?” he snarls. “Throw me back in?”

"I was hoping we could talk," Dick says. Now that he's here, he realizes how crazy that is. You don't talk to the Scarecrow. He's just...like this.

“No one talks at Arkham,” the Scarecrow says. His voice is deeper, scratchier. Familiar, unlike the smooth, condescending man Dick met before. “I won’t talk at Arkham. I won’t say a thing.”

"What about coffee?" Dick asks. "I mean, I probably can't be in a coffee shop dressed like this, but maybe outside?" Oh, this is so stupid.

“What do you want?” the Scarecrow says. “I’ll tell you if I go if you’ll tell me why I go. This isn’t a riddle, that’s the other one.” He sounds like he’s forcing every word through a meat grinder.

Dick tries to force himself not to feel like he's about to be attacked. He reminds himself he's doing this for Jason. "If Robin thinks you're okay, I want to--check into that," he says.

The Scarecrow stares at him with something between suspicion and loathing. 

“I can’t talk to you,” he says. “I don’t have the answers. I’m not what you want.” Yellow light from a dull streetlamp hits his face as he talks, and makes the dirt look like bruises. “I won’t stay here.” He doesn’t move. 

Dick is suddenly hit with a little piece of what Jason probably feels. Arkham isn't a good place. And there are some things nobody deserves, no matter what they've done.

"Can I just buy you a hot drink and a meal?" Dick asks. "I'll let you go home after that."

“Going into public like that?” Scarecrow says scathingly. “You can’t do that, oh no, you can’t do that. That’s why little Robin shouldn’t have dressed up the other day. _People_ get away with feelings. Masks get in trouble when they pretend to be human. Excuse me before I kill you,” he adds, with a little snarl. Dick can see him shaking.

And really, this is his answer right now. He doesn't need a conversation, he just needed a few months out of Gotham to forget that people like this aren't supposed to be human either. "Can I--Can I at least call someone?" he asks.

“Just let me go!” the Scarecrow barks, which is how Dick realizes that the Scarecrow is afraid of him. 

"Sorry," Dick says, taking a step back and raising his hands. "I was just trying to…"

“You take care of yours and I’ll take care of mine,” the Scarecrow says. “You can call someone but not here. They don’t let you call. They take your phone, if you’ve got a phone.”

"Right," Dick says unhappily. "If you give me a number, I can have someone meet you at your house or...wherever."

“That’s why you can’t keep secrets in there,” the Scarecrow spits, shuffling quickly past him. “They always catch you and they always take it, they pry it apart like carrion. To get to your tender insides.” He’s halfway down the block by now, hobbling but booking it.

Dick follows, although maybe he should just be cutting his losses before he does more damage. He catches up, glad the streets are pretty empty right now. "A number," he says. "Maybe the Riddler?"

“Listen!” says the Scarecrow, and gives him the number. He keeps up his pace the whole time.

Dick calls, because really, this can't get any worse.

The Riddler answers almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Hi," Dick says. "This is Nightwing. Uh--The Scarecrow is out of Arkham. I thought you'd want to know."

The Riddler is silent for a minute. Then he says, "Um, not to be rude, but what do you care?"

 

"Just come?" Dick says. "He's in bad shape." The Scarecrow is always in bad shape--except for how he was three weeks ago. Dick's stomach turns over. He gives the Riddler the address and then hangs up.

“Let’s see what shape you’re in when I’m done with you,” the Scarecrow snipes, but he doesn’t move to attack. He rubs his arms, like he’s trying to get warm. It’s a hot night, but Arkham is cold.

"Right," Dick says. "Well, I guess I can go now." He doesn't move to go. There's just so much that can happen to someone in Gotham at night if they don't have their wits about them.

“Are you the one who got him in trouble?” the Scarecrow demands.

"What?" Dick says.

“Little Robin,” says the Scarecrow, hovering his hand like a particularly distressing bird, clutching his--rags? Oh--to his chest with the other.

"Wait, hold on, what?" Dick says. "He is in trouble? I knew it! What's going on?"

The Scarecrow narrows his eyes and says, “If you come any closer I’m going to put my mask on and you’ll be _sorry.”_

"I believe you," Dick says with feeling. "I'll just hang out…over there. On the sidewalk."

The Scarecrow nods unevenly, and Dick retreats. 

Enough time passes that Dick has plenty of opportunity to regret this whole thing. He’s tired, the heat from the day is nearly extinguished and he’s getting cold, and every minute he stands still increases the chance that Bruce will pass him on his way to drop someone else off at Arkham. Meanwhile, the Scarecrow is hissing and pacing like an angry raccoon, one eye always on Dick. 

Thankfully, the Riddler appears before too long. He's in street clothes, sort of--ripped jeans and a mesh t-shirt. He immediately rushes over to the Scarecrow.

"Hey," he says. "Well, look at you. Looks like Arkham, all right. What a mess."

“Batman,” the Scarecrow spits. “I barely scared anyone.”

"Well, you're scaring me," the Riddler says firmly. "Let's get you home and get you a bath." Neither of them even looks at Dick.

The Scarecrow says, “I don’t scare you, Eddie, nothing scares you.”

"The opposite of that is true," the Riddler says. He kisses the Scarecrow.

"Wait, really?" Dick says. He did _not_ know they were--he just didn't know!

The Scarecrow pulls out of the kiss to stare poison daggers directly into Dick’s body.

"Thanks," the Riddler says, apparently unconcerned. "For the call. We'll just be going now. You should probably go back to Blüdhaven."

"That's the best advice I've heard all day," Dick says wearily. What was he _doing_ when he was Robin? Not paying attention, that's for sure.

“Don’t forget the little Robin,” growls the Scarecrow, as they turn to leave. “Can’t just leave someone to Batman like that. He’s a monster.”

"Sure," Dick says. But as they leave, there's a cold feeling of dread in his stomach. What if Jason thinks Dick told Bruce? What if Jason's in real trouble? He'd better go to the manor. As he makes his way there, he congratulates himself for waiting this long.

vi. 

When Alfred opens the door, he hasn’t yet wiped the startled look off his face.

“Master Richard,” he says. 

"Hi," Dick says. "I, uh, wasn't sure if I should show up in the mask or not. Not probably would have been better."

“A little less confrontational, surely,” Alfred says.

"Well, I might have come to be confrontational," Dick says, stepping inside and stripping his mask off. "Is Jason around?"

Alfred says, “Oh, yes, I understand you’ve met.”

"Yeah," Dick says. "This is really awkward, but I'm trying to make sure he's okay." Should he have hugged Alfred? Is he the one being cold and weird, instead of everyone else?

There’s a patter of sound, and Ace careens into the hall with Jason behind him. 

“Ace, come on!” Jason is shouting. Then he sees Dick, and he and the dog both pull up short. “Hey, what the hell? I thought you weren’t a stalker,” he says.

"I know," Dick says. "But, uh--one of your friends mentioned that you might be in trouble, and that it might be my fault. So I came to say sorry." He bends to pat Ace.

Jason laughs angrily. “Oh yeah. I’m grounded. And Bruce went and got some people arrested to teach me a lesson.”

Alfred says, “People who needed to be arrested.”

Jason bites his lip and radiates anger, but he doesn’t talk back to Alfred. Interesting.

"Sorry," Dick says, "That sucks. Uh, come walk the dog with me and I'll tell you something that might cheer you up a little bit."

Jason looks at Alfred and Alfred says, “I don’t think it’s technically breaking the rules. Go on. I’ll soothe Master Bruce if he should come in while you’re out.”

Dick flashes Alfred a smile. "Thanks, Alfred." He lets Ace and Jason out into the yard that's still not his.

"Okay," he says, when the door's shut, "I saw the Scarecrow get released. So I called the Riddler, and now they're off together somewhere. If it helps. If you were worried."

Jason does look instantly hopeful. “Oh, really? It’s my fucking fault Jon was in there. Bruce got so mad about the Eddie-rescuing thing, he knows I keep doing that kind of stuff and he hates it--you know Bruce--and he just lost his shit, you know? Like lost it. So he went after Jon on purpose.” He makes a noise almost like a laugh.

"...That's really fucked up," Dick says. He's with Bruce, the Scarecrow belongs in Arkham. Or somewhere, anyway. But that kind of deliberate bullshit is exactly why Dick left.

Jason looks aggrieved. “I know they do bad shit,” he says. “Or Scarecrow does, anyway. Everything’s not simple, though. I tried to make it simple when I started but I fucking know, man. Lots of people do bad things, that doesn’t mean they’re not people anymore.”

Dick chews his lip and watches Ace bound around. The Riddler looked pretty bad when Dick and Jason found him. The Scarecrow looked pretty bad just now. "You're right," he says.

“I only started this because the Riddler asked Bruce for help,” Jason says. “They asked for help because they were scared their boyfriend was dead and Bruce didn’t help. He just walked away. Because people like that aren’t real.” He kicks the gravel. “Bruce is great, but maybe he’s a little wrong.”

"Believe me," Dick says. "I know." He puts his hand on Jason's shoulder. "You learned that way faster than I did."

Jason looks glum. “I want it all to be better than this,” he says. 

"Working for yourself is better," Dick says. "I mean, when you're older." He didn't come here with the intention of talking about everything that's wrong with Bruce, but wasn't his original plan to show Jason that there's somebody else in his position?

“Yeah, maybe,” says Jason. “Or I’ll just make him get it. He’s a genius. I’ll make him understand.”

"Yeah," Dick says. "Maybe." Inside he's yelling, _He will never understand! Anything that's important to you, he won't get it. Might as well give up, kid!_

“I will,” says Jason, eyes flashing. 

"Well, I probably can't help with that part, but I'll be around," Dick says. "If you want." Maybe it's cowardly to keep avoiding Bruce, but he's not ready.

Jason considers. “You really helped?” he asks. “We can hang out.”

"It was just a phone call," Dick says, blushing. He really wants this kid to like him. He really wants to be friends.

Jason smiles. He has a dimple, only one, which is incredibly endearing, and surprising on his tough face. 

“You’re cool,” he says. 

Dick grins. "You're so wrong, but thanks. I'll see you soon?"

“Yeah,” says Jason. He looks completely cheered up. “See ya.”

Dick pats Ace and goes on his way, feeling like he's somehow done the right thing, even if he's done about ten things to get on Bruce's bad side. Maybe that's not the end of the world, though. Maybe instead of getting closure with Bruce, he's made a new friend.


End file.
